


if the sky could dream

by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)



Series: sky would dream of dragons [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Bathing/Washing, Domestic Fluff, Dragon Jaskier | Dandelion, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Apologizes, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Parents Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier | Dandelion, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Reunions, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25188574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterLadyy/pseuds/winterbitch
Summary: Jaskier is old. He's old and patient and he will not let a Witcher outstubborn him, not when it comes to the matters of the heart. Even after Geralt screams at him, Jaskier can wait. He vists Kaer Morhen, takes care of his treasure, gets a horse and acquires a sorceress friend.Through it all, he loves his stupid Witcher and his precious princess and when they meet and they're threatened, Jaskier will not hesitate to do anything if that means they're safe.  Only then he makes sure they're both cared for and loved.
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tissaia de Vries & Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: sky would dream of dragons [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943038
Comments: 58
Kudos: 1186





	if the sky could dream

**Author's Note:**

> it's long in the making and i finally finished it. it was supposed to be like 2k maybe but it grew for some reason. hope you like it, there's not much geralt involved but jaskier thinks about him a lot. its mostly fluff.

Jaskier is 568 years old when he meets his first Witcher.

Granted, he’s not called a ‘Witcher’ yet but he will be and Jaskier likes him very much and he decides to treasure his little strange more-durable human. He’s very sad when he dies but Jaskier remembers souls and warm hearts and he follows the Witchers as they grow and become more known. He doesn’t show himself a lot, but he has a few friends, a few treasures he visits regularly.

He lets Vesemir talk about the sacking of Kaer Morhen when it happens and then he visits Kaer Morhen to cast a protection over it so that nothing bad can ever happen to it again. Jaskier hates that he wasn’t there, that he let it happen to his treasures but he's old and he knows that he can’t save everyone. And humans are so very very cruel. Jaskier met many different monsters of all types and yet humans always reign victorious when it comes to cruelty and needless violence. They also never learn.

Jaskier knows of Geralt and Eskel and Lambert and even about Aiden, the precious and sassy Cat Witcher that he helps to save because he’s a sucker for a good love story and Lambert deserves some happiness. Besides, the Cat is a bit like Jaskier’s fire, too hot and too violent but ultimately used to protect, to defend. Aiden really deserves happiness as well.

So does Geralt but for some reason, Jaskier wants to be the one to give that happiness to him. So he follows the Witcher and sings about him, protects him from humans and witches and djinns, even at the cost of his own life or heart.

Dragons are very dedicated to their treasure and his treasure is even more precious than usual. Jaskier would die for his Witchers, even if he knows only two of them personally. He would die for Geralt specifically but well, Jaskier is old but he’s never actually fallen in love like that. Deeply, with his whole heart and soul and fire.

Geralt of Rivia holds a dragon’s heart in his hands and he doesn’t even know it.

It’s not that Jaskier doesn’t try! It’s just that emotionally, that man is as dense as he is thick, and that’s saying something considering his muscles. Jaskier doesn’t want to be garish with his love confessions though, so he’s still looking for more subtle ways of telling his Witcher and getting him to agree to let Jaskier court him. He's a gentleman, after all, and he wouldn't just…spring it on the Witcher like that. Besides, Geralt is so very skittish and it could end in a disaster. 

It’s been years but well, Jaskier is patient. He's old and he saw empires rise and fall, he can wait for his darling Witcher. 

Even a djinn’s wish will fade with time, air creatures have always been so fickle and easily bored. They're powerful and their magic is binding, but still, time passes and they grow tired of it. Even the best tricks get boring after a while. 

When they get a contract for a dragon, Jaskier just smiles and lets his Witcher do his thing. Even when the witch comes and Geralt loses his damn mind, he follows. He’s a protector through and through, and he will not leave his treasure with a strange, golden dragon. Jaskier always disliked them, they creep him out. And they look weird as well, he's not sure what made them evolve in that way but in his opinion, they look like sad, winged snakes. Still, he goes, following his Witcher. 

Even when Geralt screams at him and wishes him gone, Jaskier gathers his things and walks down the mountain, shaking his head at his poor wolf. Always so cruel when hurt, Jaskier will have to work on that.

He doesn’t look back and sets off to Kaer Morhen, where his treasure sits and waits for his sons. Jaskier can wait with him, he doesn't like being alone much and he longs for some familiarity. For his treasure. 

“Welcome back,” Vesemir says simply when Jaskier arrives at the gates.

“Your son is an idiot,” he informs the man, promptly walking towards the kitchen, from where he steals some alcohol and heads towards the hot springs. Vesemir follows.

“Lambert or Geralt?”

“Geralt,” Jaskier mumbles and undresses. Vesemir avoids his eyes but follows him soon enough until they’re sharing some truly terrible vodka in the hot water. “He’s a dumb idiot with emotional intelligence of a rock and anger issues.”

Vesemir simply gives him the bottle back.

That night, he curls in the yard in his true form, squishing himself to fit and sleeps with Vesemir hidden under his wing, safe and warm where he belongs. Some part of Jaskier settles then, content with one of his treasures safe and sound. It doesn't happen often, actually it's been almost a century since the last time he had Vesemir under his wings and it's bliss unlike any other. 

Eskel is the one who arrives first, with a cute goat and a majestic horse and the gentlest eyes Jaskier has ever seen.

“Hello, darling,” he says brightly, sitting on a half-fallen wall with his lute.

“A bard?” Eskel asks, not unkindly. Jaskier just smiles.

“I’m Vesemir’s friend and I wanted to see all my treasures in one place. Please, don’t mind me.”

Eskel raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything else, content to leave questions for later. Jaskier smiles more and goes back to composing, warm even in the cold mountain air. Vesemir and Eskel busy themselves with stacking the keep and making sure things are in order, and Jaskier composes and breathes, taking a small break from adventures.

He’s not sure Geralt will come, bringing his Child Surprise with him. Ciri is precious and like a fledgeling to him and Jaskier wants her close, where he can protect her. But first, he has to let Geralt find and protect her himself. Besides, he knows Geralt doesn’t always come back for the winter.

“Are you waiting for him?” Vesemir asks at dinner, Eskel’s eyes trained on Jaskier.

The dragon shrugs. “Maybe. To be absolutely honest, I’m not quite sure yet. He was a right bastard the last time we saw each other but I am pretty sure I can squeeze an apology from him at some point. Besides, with the war brewing, it’s not a bad idea to breathe some life into this frozen keep, hmm? I’m sure you won’t mind me.”

Eskel is staring at him, as if unsure how to react but Jaskier is very good at training Witchers and he’s sure he can work with this gentle sweetheart of a man.

Lambert comes next, loud and brash and besotted with his Cat, who saunters around the place and flirts with Jaskier shamelessly. The dragon just laughs and sings them a slow song, causing Aiden to pull Lambert into a dance. Vesemir is shaking his head but the keep already feels warmer, more alive.

He can see how much Lambert wants to ask questions, but whenever he opens his mouth with that particular look on his face, Vesemir is there to pinch his ear or gently slap his arm. Jaskier isn’t rushing to explain things, he’s still a bit too hurt for that. Even his years and years of experience hasn’t prepared him for heartbreak.

Even with that, it’s a good winter.

The feral dragon deep in Jaskier is purring. He almost has all of them close, just waiting for Coën and maybe Geralt with Ciri. He’s still not sure if they’ll come but Vesemir assured him that if Geralt won’t come, a letter will inform them. Jaskier still isn’t sure if he wants to see the Witcher now or if he’s hoping he’ll get another year to prepare himself.

The heart is a very delicate and complicated thing.

When Coen finally arrives, Jaskier is all smiles and questions. He dances around the Griffin even more and the man is surprisingly patient. He answers all of Jaskier’s questions and even talks without prompting and Jaskier is very very happy to have met this man.

“He’s staying somewhere in Kareck,” Vesemir says one morning during breakfast. Everything pauses and Jaskier sighs sadly. “He says he found some witch to stay with, she’s injured and they’re too far away to make it before the first snow. He also found her.”

Jaskier’s frown turns into a smile and he nods. It doesn’t matter if Geralt is here or not - Jaskier has nothing but time and he can either out stubborn or just find his dumb Witcher. It’s no matter. Besides, Jaskier knows he doesn’t truly love Yennefer.

It’s nothing personal against the witch, just the fact that they know very very little about each other and spend maybe 3 days with each other every few months. The djinn’s wish bonded them together and Geralt truly cares about Yennefer, but Jaskier can recognize love when he sees it.

There’s nothing like that between them.

That’s why he doesn’t really get bothered by Geralt staying with Yennefer for the winter. He only hopes that Ciri won’t have to witness their explosive fights. Those two are too similar to be truly healthy together and children tend to feel those things, those disturbances in relationships. Still, Ciri is strong.

Soon the winter settles and the pass freezes over. The keep is warm and Jaskier makes sure the fire is always blazing, from time to time adding some dragonfire into the mix. Only Vesemir realizes what’s going on, but well, he never claimed that Witchers were especially smart. It’s still endearing.

“What the fuck is this?” Lambert asks, baffled, as Jaskier sits on the yard and skins the deer he hunted during the night.

“It’s dinner, Lambert, unless you want to eat more of that stale bread,” Jaskier replies evenly and shoots Lambert a smile. “I’m not a vegetarian, Witcher, and you all need to fatten up. You’re starving.”

Lambert keeps shooting him suspicious glances through the day but no one else asks a question. Jaskier is happy to do the hunting during the winter, it’s way too cold and snowy for his Witchers. He likes to provide.

The Witchers are skittish and unused to a nice company but Jaskier is a very very patient man and he has a few tricks up his sleeve after 2 decades with Geralt and countless years with other Witchers. Vesemir is as kind as always and Jaskier gladly spends time with him, but he makes sure to visit Eskel’s goats with him, trade insults with Lambert and read with Coen. It truly is a good winter.

His Witchers train and try to make him train as well, though Jaskier always refuses.

“I’d rather just watch you, you gorgeous creatures!” he calls and delights in the shy blushes on his Witchers’ faces. So so skittish, his treasures are.

When the snow finally begins to melt, his Witchers are itching to get back on the road. Jaskier just watches with an indulgent smile, way too used to their antics. He enjoys travels but he wouldn’t say no to staying in the keep the whole year. 

“Then stay,” Vesemir says as if it is that easy.

Jaskier sighs. He’s still not sure and Geralt is out there…

“Geralt will be fine,” the old Witcher insists as if he’s reading Jaskier’s mind. “He has his Child Surprise, his witch. He’ll be fine. He doesn’t need you all the time and it may do him some good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all.”

Jaskier just has to laugh at that and they spend that night drinking by the hearth, sharing stories. He knows that the days the Witchers leave are hard on Vesemir, so he makes sure to ease the pain a bit. Oh, the aches of a parent.

He may not have any biological children but Ciri is precious to him, in a different way than his Witchers are. Jaskier spent quite some time in the Cintran court, keeping the princess company and making sure she knew a bit more about the world around her.

Ciri was always a delight but they both pretended she didn’t slip once or twice and called him ‘Ada’ as is the word for “father” in his native language. They both knew it wasn’t a good idea to stick with that, as Jaskier wasn’t particularly liked by the Queen but the moments are fresh in his memory and he treasures it above everything else.

“Went somewhere?” Vesemir asks suddenly.

Jaskier smiles sheepishly. “To Ciri,” he explains softly. “I miss her.”

The old Witcher doesn’t say anything but they drink for her health and go to sleep.

He stays for a few more weeks after that, before his wanderlust kicks in. Vesemir just laughs at him and tells him where to stop to find some truly beautiful horses. Jaskier may not get tired easily but if he wants to travel with Geralt and Ciri, another horse would be an advantage. Jaskier hopes for some unique colors, maybe with some white…

“Thank you, old friend,” he says quietly to Vesemir as they’re standing in front of the gates. “It’s been a true pleasure, being here again.”

Vesemir rolls his eyes and tugs him into a short, rough hug. Witchers always had issues with physical affection.

“Come this year as well,” the Witcher orders sternly. “The boys are better off with you here. And bring my stupid pup as well, I need to meet my granddaughter.”

Jaskier laughs and promises to bring Geralt for the winter, even if he’ll have to tie him down and bring him like a sack of potatoes. Then, he’s off, descending the mountain again, enjoying the breeze. He hopes to find a nicely sized village for Beltane, to sing and play some of his new ballads about the truly amazing Witchers.

He has no idea where Geralt may be but Destiny usually tugged them together at some point, so Jaskier just travels and lets the powers that be do the work. He finds the man Vesemir told him about and then stands in front of the field filled with horses.

There are quite a few pretty ones, a carmello, buckskin and pied but they’re all absolute assholes and Jaskier barely escapes from under their hooves. It’s insulting. Even Roach is better mannered than those.

Just as he’s about to leave, something nudges him in the back and Jaskier turns around, to come face to face with a massive, back stallion. They stare at each other for a while, but then the horse nudges him again, rubbing his face against Jaskier’s chest and oh, suddenly he doesn’t care about the color.

“Oh, you’re a sweetheart, aren’t you?” he coos at the animal, rubbing his face and ears, brushing the coat. He’s truly a glorious horse, strong and with a shining coat, a bit more suited for someone who dresses like Geralt than someone like him but well, their personalities match.

Jaskier smiles and turns to the owner. “He’s the one,” he says confidently.

Volt is expensive but Jaskier can afford him now - being a famous bard apparently does pay very well. His purse is quite light now, but they stop in the next village and Jaskier sings himself hoarse, leaving with some good coin and a new doublet - dark red with gold embroidery and a golden chemise underneath. He feels good, important and pretty and that’s the best a dragon can feel without his hoard.

Travelling with a horse is significantly faster than on foot so Jaskier and Volt make good time. At some point, he starts feeling a tug in his belly so he just follows that, confident that it will lead him somewhere. Maybe not to Geralt but still somewhere.

That mystery gets solved when he enters a particularly dark forest and immediately gets assaulted by Fae magic. Jaskier grits his teeth and tightens his hands on the reins, straightening on the saddle. Volt huffs but doesn’t spook, just seems uneasy. 

Jaskier can relate.

As they ride, they’re getting close to the source of the malicious magic so Jaskier lets some of his own magic loose, blanketing him and Volt in a protective charm. He’s not a sorcerer but he’s Primal Magic and he will use it if necessary.

“Time to pay, sorceress,” comes a smooth hiss from somewhere to his right, so Jaskier soundlessly hops off Volt and ties him to a tree.

“Stay here,” he whispers to the horse before silently moving closer to the source.

Between two giant trees, truly ancient, stand 5 armed Fae and one human. A sorceress, in a dark simple dress, power arching off of her. It’s dim, however, as if she’s depleted and Jaskier never reacted well to Fae. Rarely does their victim deserve what they’re about to do and Jaskier hates hurting people for fun.

“I owe you nothing,” she says calmly, head held high. Jaskier admires her for that. She’s staring at her own defeat but she refuses to bend.

Pride is, after all, every dragon’s downfall.

“Oh but you do, little sorceress,” one Fae coos, their pupilless eyes trained on the woman. “And now it’s time to collect that debt.”

The guards straighten and that’s when Jaskier decides to act.

He steps out of the shadows with a small smirk, letting himself fall into his old habits. “Now, my dear friends, there’s no need for that,” he says lightly, as if addressing his university colleagues.

Everyone turns to face him and Jaskier can see the Fae sneer. They still think him human, how disappointing.

“It is none of your concern, bard, what happens here,” the one in charge spats out, eyeing the lute on his back in disdain.

Jaskier just smiles patiently, feeling as if he’s dealing with children, and stops next to the sorceress. They don’t know her name, thank the gods, and they can still get out of this situation. Besides, if all else fails, brute strength usually works.

“You don’t own her in any way, she doesn’t owe you anything, Seelie. Go away,” Jaskier orders, magic now closer to the surface.

The guards shift, uneasy from the change in the air but the one in charge, who has all the arrogance of a Prince, just scoffs. 

“You can’t order me around, mortal. I am the king of this forest and she is mind,” he hisses.

Just like that, the pleasant mask melts away leaving a dark green skin mottled with specks like raindrops, long claws, wide jaw and 2 rows of teeth. The sorceress steadies herself, calling forth her Chaos but Jaskier just chuckles and steps in front of her. He’s all for letting people fight their own battles but she’s too tired now and the Fae is too powerful.

“A King?” he scoffs. “I know kings, youngling, and all you are is a spoiled brat of a princeling. A stupid one too.”

The Prince growls at him, the guards shift their weapons and Jaskier has enough. He’s on a schedule and he just does not have time for arrogant Fae and stupid children.

“Enough,” he orders, quiet and deadly.

The forest around them listens, animals scampering away, the Chaos arching away from them. Jaskier calls for his flame and it bursts from his body, probably oh so pretty on the dark red doublet. The sorceress stays in her place, not even flinching but the Fae takes a step back, fear inching into his dead eyes.

Jaskier smiles, letting his own sharp teeth show. “Do not play the games you don’t know the rules for,” he instructs. “Your arrogance will be your falling, youngling. Go before I kill all of you.”

Thankfully, they listen and disappear, the veil between worlds falling back into place. It brushes against Jaskier, reminding him that he’s also not from this world, but he resists. He has business here.

Danger gone, he allows his flames to die down and his visage to turn fully human, before he turns to the sorceress and bends down in a bow, kissing her hand delicately.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, my lady,” he says with all the sarcastic respect he can muster.

The sorceress looks at him for a second before nodding. “Tissaia de Vries,” she introduces herself. Jaskier raises an eyebrow.

“The rectoress of Artuza? My, what an honor.”

Tissaia just rolls her eyes and smooths her hands down her dress, changing the fabric into something richer, more suiting for someone her status. 

“Thank you,” she finally says, words slow. “You...helped me greatly.”

“That looked like it hurt,” Jaskier notices cheerfully. “You’re welcome and all that, now come on, my horse is nearby and the next village 2 ride days away.”

He tugs her towards Volt, not caring how powerful she is. Jaskier never cared about that much. She seems too stunned to do anything else but wisely doesn’t insist she can portal herself. It seems Tissaia knows her own limits.

“So,” Jaskier starts, as soon as they’re walking, Tissaia sat on Volt. “Was it Sodden that depleted you so much?”

Silence reigns for a while, before Tissaia sighs. “Yes,” she admits. “They were supposed to be reinforcements. They never came.”

“Figures,” Jaskier scoffs. “They always say they’ll help, until the danger is too big, and their coin matters more.”

Tissaia hums. “Cowardly but predictable. Humans are fickle.”

“And sorcerers are better?” Jaskier raises an eyebrow. “I can name a few that are way worse than the worst human you ever met.”

She doesn’t say anything to that and Jaskier picks up his lute. “Tell me about Sodden.”

Surprisingly, she does, and Jaskier makes a song deserving of what happened. He’s not surprised when he learns what Yennefer did, she always was too powerful for her own good, but he mentions others. They all fought and bled there.

Tissaia turns out to be a good travel companion. For all her expensive dresses and emotionless face, she doesn’t shy away from skinning the rabbits and sits on Jaskier’s bedroll without complaint. Though, he also wears his expensive silks and lute, but enjoys the dirty road. They're similar here.

“You missed it,” he notices quietly when they’re sitting in front of the fire, enjoying the forest during the night. “The road, the wilderness, the campsites and simple food.”

“Perceptive,” she hums, eyeing him from the side. “I did. There is something… Something in being free like that.”

Jaskier nods and finishes the song as she listens. 

They wake up bright and early, continuing on their travel. Jaskier finishes the ballad, titling it  _ “The Day Skies Rained Fire” _ and finishes it the very same evening, Tissaia sat with her wine by the wall. The crowd is receptive and he gets a fair amount of coin, buying the last room available.

He’s surprised when the sorceress just changes her dress into a nightgown and motions towards the bed.

“How very forward of you,” Jsskier purrs and then laughs when she smacks him in the head.

“Don’t get ideas,” she warns him just before they settle for the night, but he wakes up with Tissaia plastered by his side, seeking his natural warmth.

They travel like that for 3 weeks - Jaskier doesn’t ask if she doesn’t have anywhere to be and Tissaia doesn’t tell. They talk, surprisingly, and he finds out she’s not as much of a bitch as he thought.

When children come to them, she crouches next to them and makes them flowers as Jaskier signs.

“I think I forgot what it’s like to live,” she confesses once the kids run away for dinner.

“I’ve been told I’m an amazing teacher,” Jaskier assures. “And we have the whole Continent by our fingertips.”

Jaskier suspects that she’s running away from her responsibilities a bit but well, he’s the one to talk so he doesn’t ask. He enjoys watching her smile more often, her regal features lighting up whenever she does. Her dresses change from black and navy into lighter blues with some silver, flowers embroidered in pink thread, with green leaves. Even if it all disappears the moment she goes back to her life, at least Jaskier could give her this.

It’s nearing Beltane when Jaskier feels the tug in his belly again. Tissaia glances at him curiously when he hisses so he sends her a smile.

“Destiny is at work again,” he explains.

“You believe in Destiny?”

Jaskier laughs at that. “Oh, I’m far too old not to believe in what I see every day. Only fools don’t believe there are higher powers at work.”

“I believe in gods,” she defends herself.

“Then why not in Destiny?” he shoots back.

Silence falls for a few more miles, Jaskier admiring nature and Tissaia thinking.

“I like having a choice,” she finally says.

“Choice…” Jaskier muses. “I understand that. Those who had none in the past often cling to having it now, even at the cost of their own health or life. Choice is important, that’s true, but more than once we are forced to do something, even if we don’t want to, just because it’s consequences. It’s the same with Destiny - you can deny it, but ultimately you’re clinging to your pride and hurting those around you. I know pride.”

“As does every dragon,” Tissaia agrees.

She doesn’t ask again and they follow the tug in Jaskier’s belly. It leads them towards a fairly big village, in the middle of celebrating Beltane. Jaskier laughs when he sees the flames and Tissaia lets young girls tug her away to make flowercrowns as Jaskier joins the band.

They can both feel something at work, but Beltane is special and Jaskier lets the celebrations kidnap him. There’s a crown of flowers waiting for him when he comes back, red and gold, the color of the flames. Tissaia doesn’t give it to him but Jaskier knows. 

The celebrations slowly die down and people start dispersing, often in pairs, when Jaskier smells the familiar scent - Ciri.

He looks around wildly and then he sees her - ashen hair under a dark coat, desperate green eyes widening when they meet his. Jaskier opens his arms and lets his fledgeling fall into them, clutching her close.

“Ada,” she whispers desperately, reeking of fear.

“Oh darling,” Jaskier coos, tugging her even closer, stepping to the side so that they're standing firmly behind the fire. 

Tissaia comes closer, her Chaos surging up and then they show up - Geralt, Yennefer and a young woman in dark green armour. Familiar armour.

Jaskier isn’t sure what makes his heart race - the armour or Geralt, tired and messy and so so beautiful, even frightened. Gold eyes stop on them, softening and widening when Geralt notices who is holding Ciri in his arms. Jaskier can’t help but send the Witcher a smile, breath hitching when Geralt returns it hesitantly.

Then, Jaskier focuses on the woman.

There’s a big sword in her hand, a familiar sword that makes his teeth ache. He tightens his hold on Ciri and stifles a growl.

“Let her go,” the woman orders then, her magic holding Yennefer and Geralt at bay. She’s strong and they’re tired, it’s not a good combination. 

Normally, Yennefer could take care of her but Jaskier knows what happened in Sodden and he’s not surprised she managed to overcome both the sorceress and the Witcher.

“No,” he answers calmly, shifting to stand up straighter.

Gently, Tissaia tugs Ciri to stand behind them, protected by both of them. Yennefer’s eyes widen when she notices her old teacher standing next to Jaskier, proud and sure, her dress full of pink flowers. Ciri is clutching Tissaia’s dress in her hands, so so scared.

Jaskier hates Immith for doing that to his daughter.

“She has Elder Blood. She belongs to us, dragons,” Immith states, clearly repeating what was said to her. Jaskier’s heart goes out to the young woman being used like that, but Ciri and Geralt matter more.

“I thought dragons didn’t steal children,” Tissaia is the one who answers, her head held high as always. Now she has the power to back it up, however, and she’s glorious.

Immith glares at the sorceress. “We don’t steal but we are of Elder Blood. The last ones of true Elder Blood. She belongs with us, where she can grow and learn.”

Jaskier can’t help but snort at that, not caring about the angry looks he’s getting from Geralt and Yennefer.

“She belongs with her family. She belongs with Geralt and with me, here, on the Continent, not in your golden cages of power and servitude. You can’t have her, thief,” he hisses, his flames almost licking the surface.

“Elder Uzzut declared it so, pathetic mortal, you have no power here. She is right,” Immith hisses, gripping her sword tighter.

At that, Jaskier lets go of everything that was holding him back.

“Uzzut, you say?” he hums, taking a step closer to the fire, to them. Immith holds her ground, proud as always, but Geralt can feel something is amiss. “She holds no power here, in this world. You cannot steal a child, else you’re worse than the Seelie that I had to deal with a few months ago. Cirila stays here, with us.”

It’s enough to send Immith into rage. She was probably told that she’s doing a holy mission, that she’s saving the child, but everyone is telling her no and disrespecting her Elder. It’s just what Jaskier was hoping for.

Not caring that Geralt is screaming his name, Jaskier focuses on the dragon warrior that’s charging at him with the sword held high. Jaskier smirks and steps into the fire, feeling the warmth spread through him. Just as Immith makes a swing, Jaskier grabs the sword’s handle and twists it out of her hand, sending her on the ground.

He stands over her, Blackfyre burning with his blue flame, fire licking his clothes like an old friend. He smiles, smile as cold as the lakes in the Dead Valley.

“Cirilia isn’t yours to take, Immith,” he repeats. “When you go back, remind your Elder that it’s not her place to give orders like these. It sounds like treason, my dear, and we all know what the Monarch does with traitors, hm?”

Immith crawls away from him, feeling that she met someone way more powerful than her. Maybe she heard the stories of Blackfyre and those who wield it. Maybe she’s seen pictures, heard the songs. It doesn’t matter.

She came for his fledgeling and she has to be removed.

“And when you see her, please tell her that her Uncle Jaiddrianth is sending his regards.”

In a rush of magic from Tissaia, she disappears, shock frozen on her face. Jaskier sighs and lets the flames die down, throwing Blackfyre to the ground when Ciri throws herself into his arms again.

“Ada, you helped,” she whispers through the sobs and he just holds her tight, eyes trained on Geralt.

Tissaia apparently took care of the magic holding them down and the Witcher is now coming closer to them, as Ciri holds out an arm and beckons him closer. Taking in Geralt’s hesitant face, Jaskier rolls his eyes and tugs his stupid Wolf into the hug, holding him up as strength seems to fail him. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt mutters into the space between them. “I...apologize-”

Before he can continue, Jaskier lays a finger over his lips, smiling. “Oh, darling, I know,” he says soothingly. “I forgave you the moment you said it.”

It seems like the relief of those words is enough to send the Witcher to his knees, so Jaskier catches him and they all slide down, holding each other in the dying flames of the fire. Ciri stops shaking eventually but still clings to him, so Jaskier carefully keeps her close as he stands up, holding Geralt’s hand all the while.

The Witcher is looking at him like he’s the sun and the moon and the stars and Jaskier’s breathing catches again as a soft smile spreads on his face.

“Finally figured it out, dear heart?” he asks lightly as Geralt’s gaze turns awed and shocked.

The Witcher gives him a lost look so Jaskier laughs and tugs him closer, letting Geralt lean against him. “Later,” he promises.

They don’t have the chance to say anything else as Yennefer stalks close to them, hands on her hips. She looks unimpressed as she stares at Blackfyre abandoned on the ground and Jaskier beacons it closer with a finger, holding it behind Geralt’s back.

“Yennefer, absolute lack of pleasure as always,” he says in a dead voice, enjoying how it makes Tissaia roll her eyes.

“Calm down, children,” she snaps at them. “The princess needs to rest, as does Yennefer and the Witcher. We’ll get two rooms, the inn already promised us one, it will not be hard. And a bath,” she adds, grimacing at the sight of grim and dirt on their newfound companions.

Jaskier smiles brightly at her and soon enough he’s sitting behind Geralt who is submerged in a bath, head thrown back. He’s smiling, hands on Geralt’s shoulders, gently massaging the aching muscles.

Tissaia and Yennefer have the other room, Ciri with them temporarily. He isn’t sure what exactly is between them but they have the princess so he’s relatively sure they won’t end up killing each other.

“A dragon?” Geralt finally asks, relaxed and soft.

Jaskier imagined this many many times, but the reality is so much better than any dreams. They’re both calm, the air smells like chamomile and a hint of blood, Cirilia is just behind a wall and Geralt is relaxed under Jaskier’s hands.

“A dragon indeed,” Jaskier confirms. “I was giving you hints, my dear, but you’re wonderfully thick when you wish and it was just a lost cause, really,” he sighs dramatically.

Geralt’s lips twitch into a smile and the Witcher turns awkwardly to face him. Jaskier lets him cup his face into his big, scarred hands, leaning into the touch.

“They weren’t the only hint you were giving me,” he states, not even asking, but Jaskier answers anyway,

“Yes.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier leans a bit closer to kiss the top of Geralt’s nose, laughing when it makes the Witcher splutter. He goes back to gently cleaning Geralt’s hair but now the other man leans into his touch like cat, damn near purring. When the sound really starts resembling a purr, Jaskier lets his own free and they purr together for a long while, the bard’s arms wrapped around the Witcher from behind, his head resting on Geralt’s shoulder.

“Ready to sleep?” he asks eventually when the moon is starting to dip again. It’s late and Geralt is tired. They’re all tired.

Geralt grunts out an affirmative so Jaskier leaves him to dry and goes to collect Ciri. She's clean as well, her hair a wet tangled mess, wearing loose pants and a big shirt. She gives him a bright smile and they leave the sorceresses to themselves. Jaskier really doesn’t want to know what it is between the two of them.

The Witcher is already dressed, thankfully, and he smiles softly at the sight of the princess.

“Will you braid my hair, Ada?” she asks eagerly, sitting on one bed. “Dad isn’t that great at it, even though his hair is long.”

Geralt visually softens at the name and ruffles her hair just to be contrary. It makes her smile, however, and Jaskier watches it before grabbing a brush and a pretty green ribbon.

“Well, come on little sparrow,” he says gently, motioning for the girl to move closer. “I’ll braid it simply now but tomorrow we’ll find some flowers, or ask Tissaia to get us some, and I’ll braid them into your hair, how does that sound?”

Ciri just nods and leans into his touch, Geralt sitting on the floor by Jaskier’s legs. The Witcher leans against him and watches as Jaskier gently detangles and brushes her hair, Ciri growing more and more sleepy with every second.

When he’s finished, Ciri is mostly asleep so Geralt gives him the ribbon and together, they lay her down and wrap her in blankets. She sniffles sleepily and turns to face the wall, radiating contentment.

Geralt helps him stand and they lean against each other for a second, taking comfort in each other.

“What does ‘Ada’ mean?”

“Father,” Jaskier replies with a shy smile. “It means ‘father’.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else as they lay down next to each other, wrapping around each other like that what they’ve been doing for decades. Geralt is warm and lovely in his arms and Jaskier purrs again, his treasure finally here.

“I’m glad you’re also her parent,” Geralt finally says, breathing the silence. “You’re...good to her.”

“Did she tell you about me?”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier smiles. He still can understand each grunt and hum, he’s still fluent in Geralt-speak. It’s nice to know.

“I would like for you to raise her with me.”

It all comes out in a rush as if Geralt’s afraid of asking and knowing him, he really is. Jaskier just smiles tenderly and turns the Witcher to his back, leaning over him, hand on his cheek. Geralt nuzzles into it, golden eyes half-closed.

“I’d love to raise Ciri with you, my love,” he promises in a soft whisper.

“Jaskier… I- Well. Me too,” Geralt mumbles, avoiding the bard’s gaze. “My love. Me too.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Darling,” Jaskier mutters, just before kissing his stupid Witcher.

Geralt’s arms wrap around his waist and he tangles his fingers in white hair and it’s way too passionate for a room with their daughter present but Jaskier waited for over 2 decades and he suspects Geralt waited for at least half the time. 

The kisses taper out into soft nuzzling, Jaskier’s lips pressing little marks into Geralt’s skin, nuzzling and kissing. Geralt’s making those lovely sighs, not quite moans, but soft and full of pleasure.

Finally, the Witcher tugs at his hair and pulls him into another hug. Jaskier holds Geralt when he sleeps in his arms, casting protective magic over his love, his treasure.

That winter is the first time in his long long life that Jaskier finally understands true happiness.

They’re all gathered in Kaer Morhen, Ciri explaining something to Yennefer who is leaning against Tissaia. Vesemir is watching them, a book held loosely in his hands. Aiden and Lambert are doing something that looks kind of like fighting and kind of like flirting and Jaskier leans back against the wall and lets himself purr.

His treasure is all in one place, his whole hoard between old stone walls, safe and sound. No matter what will happen, Jaskier is here, ready to always protect, no matter what. Armies of all the kingdoms can come and he will defeat them - he finally has something to protect and Blackfyre always was used to defend.

He is, after all, a warrior type dragon.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know if you liked it and if you'd like some more dragon jaskier in this universe. i'm quite enjoying myself.


End file.
